


Darling I Love You

by LightBlueFlower



Series: Of Love and Growing Up [2]
Category: Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, FACE Family, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-10-20 16:59:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10666929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightBlueFlower/pseuds/LightBlueFlower
Summary: Francis Bonnefoy and Arthur Kirkland loved each other dearly, and were married for many years…that is, before a certain event and misunderstanding happened to cause them to separate. After desperately contacting Arthur, Francis was only able to talk to him about what was to be done about their sons, Matthew and Alfred. Arthur had no intentions of hearing Francis' pleas at the time.Now, two years later, they are trying to lead their lives without each other, but they still have personal conflicts about the situation and feelings they have. Francis works at a bar, whereas Arthur continues to teach at Roma's International Academy, where their sons are now attending. Francis had wasted his previous years drinking and working, trying to forget about Arthur, whereas Arthur seemed to have moved on.When Matthew and Alfred gets accepted to the Academy, and they start to display rebellious behaviour, Arthur finally works up the guts to talk to Francis. As a bit of time, and actually communicating, passes by, they start to mend their wounds and truly find out how dear they hold one another...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So this is the FrUk story that goes hand in hand with the PruCan and Ameripan story that I'm currently writing, but you don't need to read it if you don't want to. Although, it might help to, since both Matthew's and Alfred's actions in their own stories influence much of this story.
> 
> Unlike the two other stories, though, this a lot more family orientated than self orientated...at least that what I'm hoping it would be.
> 
> If this story still interests you, then please, continue on, and I hope you all enjoy this tale!

It was three in the morning. The night was still and quiet. The moon still was hung up in the sky, and the stars were bright. Everyone should be asleep by now. And, most people were asleep. Except for the 32 year old Arthur Kirkland.

The Brit felt like crying…Heck, he was already bawling his eyes out in his living room. The tears haven't even begun to dry. He felt like tearing himself up. He felt so stupid, and played at.

He didn't believe it at first. He didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to believe that the pictures that Katyusha (a good friend of his) sent him were real. It was not true.

Arthur couldn't sleep at all. He figured that he could have slept right away at 10 o'clock. But, for some damned reason, he couldn't. Instead, **he** must have lain in his empty bed, staring at the ceiling, for four hours straight. He decided to go to the living room and just sat on the couch, drinking his usual cup of tea. At around 2:10 in the morning, he didn't feel like sleeping. He didn't want to return to his bed alone. But, after a few minutes, he told himself it was best to go to bed, and he almost did. Almost. He received an unpleasant phone call from Katyusha before he could.

"Hullo?" he asked, his British accent still intact.

"H-hello, Arthur? It's Katyusha," said a Ukrainian-accented woman over the line.

"Oh. Hullo Katyusha. I was about to go to bed. Is there something you need to ask me? It's bound to be important for you to call so early in the morning."

"Um, no, I don't have something to ask. I have something to…t-tell you. P-please, don't get mad at me! I felt like it was right to tell you right away, even though it's none of my business. But, you're a good friend, so, I need to-"

"Alright Katyusha," Arthur said, laughing. "What is it that you need to tell me?" Katyusha told him what she needed to tell him. He didn't believe her at first. He thought that she was pulling his leg. But then she sent a few photos through text as proof. Arthur couldn't believe his eyes.

"I-I'm sorry Arthur," Katyusha said, sounding like she was about to cry.

"…"

"I j-just had to…I'm sorry for sending y-you this."

"No…I should be thanking you Katyusha. Please, excuse me. I need to do something. Have a good night."

"U-uh, good night to you too-" Arthur hung up on the call before she could finish. He continued staring and flipping through the photos. He was horrified. He felt like he was shot by a gun at his heart, and somehow survived to feel the unbearable pain.

He has a husband called Francis Bonnefoy. They knew each other for a very long time, and they were together for a long time. They'd been married for ten years now, and have two, lovely young boys who are now ten years of age. While Arthur works as a teacher at an academy, Francis works at the _Braginski's_ _Bar_ as a bartender. It is also where Katyusha, his close friend, helps out, since her family owns the place. Francis also worked as a chef during the day, but for some reason, he seemed fond about his night job. Now, at the photos Arthur's seeing right now, he sort of understands why he keeps that job.

The photos showed Francis…with another woman. A very sexy woman, Arthur had to admit. She was obviously 100 times more attractive and seductive than Arthur. The perfect, luscious, platinum blonde hair, a nice body…she was just perfect. What made it worse about the photos was that in every single one, Francis and that woman…were kissing. No, not kissing. They were having a really _really_ hot make-out session. Francis looked like he was basically on top of the woman to begin with. And, Francis seemed like he didn't care at all. He seemed like he didn't care who looked.

Arthur couldn't understand anything at all at first. He just started to feel a pain surge from his chest, and he started to cry. Tears kept pouring out of his eyes, falling on the living room floor. He couldn't stop them, no matter how much he tried.

Then, he made a terrible assumption that made him feel like killing himself: Maybe, all this time, for the past ten years that they have been married and Francis started working at the bar, Francis has been secretly hooking up with girls' like that blonde woman. All this time, Francis was having relationships like that behind Arthur's back. All this time, he's been **using** Arthur, toying and playing with him.

"No…no it's not…it's not true. Please, god, it's not true. Francis wouldn't do this to me…He wouldn't. I know h-he wouldn't. Please. This can't be happening…This can't be happening…It's not real…" He repeated these words, trying to calm himself down. But, the more he looked at the photos, the more he felt like crying, and he felt even more unbearable pain than before. Arthur felt like killing himself. He wanted to disappear right at that moment.

"Shit! H-how could I let him do this to me? W-Why? Why did he do this to me? T-t-this c-can't be h-happening. N-no…no! Shit, how could I fall into his bloody game?" He started to wipe his tears with his shirt, and tried his best not to make a lot of noise. He needed to think straight. He needed to calm down. He needed to breathe properly and think clearly at the same time.

"I…may as well ask him about this…Since I can't seem to figure out anything right now," he muttered quietly to himself, picking himself up and going to make him another cup of tea. He silently drank the extra cup, looking spaced out and unclear. He drank half-way through his cup when, unfortunately, he heard the front door open. He took a sharp breath in, and quickly took another deep breath. He heard footsteps draw nearer towards the kitchen.

"Ah, Arthur! What are you doing up so late?" said a French-man. Arthur turned around to face his husband, Francis. For one thing, Arthur was surprised of how genuinely tired Francis seemed, and how he had a worried expression on his face, like something was annoying him.

"I was waiting for you," Arthur said, trying his best not to make his voice crack. Francis didn't seem to have noticed, and just smiled.

"I'm sorry if I made you wait Iggy." The way Francis said made him sound like he was truly sorry. But, after what Arthur saw just a moment ago, it could have been another one of his sweet simple lies. "We should get some sleep, anyway." Francis started to walk away, but noticed that Arthur has not gotten up yet.

"Say, Darling…" Arthur seemed like he was about to say something else, but refrained himself from doing so.

"Yes, _ma Cherie?_ " Francis said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. When Arthur did not snap at him for using the female form of 'my dear', Francis seemed to have known something was wrong. "Is everything alright?"

"I don't know. You tell me," Arthur said monotone, his voice suddenly having a cold tone.

"Arthur," Francis said slowly with caution. "Did something happen?" Arthur green eyes made contact directly at Francis' blue eyes.

"Did something happen tonight?" Francis stood there frozen.

"N-no," Francis finally replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Are you sure that something-oh, I don't know- **interesting** happened tonight?" Arthur asked, taking a step forward and taking out his phone.

"A-Arthur," he said, his voice shaking. "I don't know where you're leading this to, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't bloody lie to me Francis."

"I-I'm not lying!"

"…" Arthur was now at least two meters away from Francis. "Fine," he finally said, pressing on his phone, finding something, and raised it in front Francis. "Can you explain this to me then?" Francis leaned in a bit. His eyes widened, horrified, when he saw the picture of him and the blonde woman…making out.

After a few minutes of not saying anything, Arthur spoke up. "Well?"

"T-That…" Francis looked like he was trying to say something. "That…is…not me…" he said, his voice draining.

"This…is not you?" Arthur repeated, obviously not buying it. Francis nodded his head. Arthur just stared at him and sighed at his lie.

"Yes. See that?" Francis continued on. "There is no ring on his ring finger. So, it is not me." Arthur looked down at Francis' right hand, to notice how there was no ring there either. It just added to his previous pain.

"You are not wearing you ring on your ring finger either at this very moment."

"Y-Yes, b-but-"

"As I said earlier Francis, don't lie to me," Arthur said, now closer to Francis.

"I'm not lying…" Arthur stared at Francis with narrow eyes.

"You've been drinking, haven't you? You smell a bit like alcohol." Francis did not respond to that, and just looked away. "You also smell like perfume." Arthur continued to stare at Francis, until he finally decided to fess up.

"Okay, I'm so sorry Arthur. I did drink, but it was just half a glass! And that guy **is** me, but it was not like I wanted to do it. She spiked my drink or something! Really Arthur, its true-"

"You bloody liar!" Arthur yelled, tears sprouting out of his eyes. "How could you fucking lie to me all this time?"

"No, it's not like I wanted to. It's just that, I knew you could get mad and…wait. All this time?"

"Don't play coy you stupid frog! You don't think I figured it out yet? After seeing that picture, you don't think I understand? You were bloody going out with other women behind my back!"

" _Quoi?!_ " For some reason, Francis did truly sound confuse. Arthur's not falling for that. "I would never-"

"You bloody liar! All the proof is right here!" Arthur yelled, pointing at his phone. "You obviously have been doing this for a long time now, haven't you?"

"N-"

"How long have this been going on for Francis? How long? Was it since you got that job? Was it ever since we were married? Maybe before that? You've been doing this for, what, 10 years now?! Maybe even before-"

"I would never do that!" Francis yelled back. "Why would you think I would do that?! How dare you think that way about me?!"

"How dare YOU do this to ME? You were fucking using me-"

"I was not using you!" Arthur ignored him, and continued on.

"Yes, you were fucking using me as your bloody toy! Your bloody sex toy! You were only using me for your own pleasure when you are not pleasing yourself with those women! You go out drinking behind my back, and kissing up to those women! I can't believe I've been sharing the same mouth and body that a lot of other people must have used!"

"Arthur, stop this-"

"YOU ARE SO BLOODY STUPID, YOU KNOW THAT? YOU WERE PLAYING WITH ME, AND I FELL FOR IT! I ACTUALLY FELL FOR IT! You must have never loved me at all! You just wanted to have me stick around for your sexual pleasure, you horny frog-"

" _ **Ferme ton stupide bouche maintenant, ou tu peux sortir d'ici! Tu peux rester dehors pour le reste de ton vie. Je m'en fous!**  <Close your stupid mouth right now, or you can leave! You can stay there for the rest of your life. I don't care!>"_ 

Arthur just stared at Francis. English may be the language he spoke mostly, but he knew French by being around Francis for so long, and he was able to understand what he said completely.

"Arthur, I didn't mean…It was just that my stupid mouth just said some random shit. I don't mean it at all-…where are you going?" Arthur rushed past Francis, and quickly made his way up the stairs. Francis immediately followed him.

"Arthur!" This caused Arthur to halt, but he soon resumed walking, making his way into the bedroom he shared with Francis. He started to go through his closet and dressers, taking whatever clothing and items he could get a hold of, and tossed them on the bed.

"Arthur, what the hell are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Arthur said, taking out a bag, and started to shove some items in it. "I'm leaving. You wouldn't care anyway." He heard Francis groan in frustration.

"Arthur, I didn't mean it. I swear. My mouth just ran out on its own. Really…Stop packing right now!" Arthur stopped, and looked directly at him.

"Who are you to tell me what to do? And who said that you were kicking me out? I'm leaving on my own free will."

"What?"

"You heard me Francis. I'm leaving you. I don't want to be played around with anymore."

"Iggy, listen to me-"

"Don't call me that."

"You have to listen to me! I'm telling you the truth! I would never want to cheat on you! Why would I want to do that?"

"Why should I believe you? A moment ago, you lied to me saying that you did not kiss that girl and you were not drinking!"

"Because I knew that you'd get mad at me…"

"Oh, and you think lying to me would make it any better?"

"No, and it was wrong to lie to you. I am sorry. But, don't go." Arthur ignored Francis' plea, and continued to pack anything he could find. Finding no other option, Francis just forcefully grabbed both of Arthur's hands.

"Let go of me." Arthur said menacingly.

"No. I'm not letting you leave."

"You have no bloody control on my decisions, Francis. Now let go of me."

"No, not without talking about this." Francis shook his head, refusing to let go. Arthur slowly turned red, and he forcefully tried to get out of his grasp. Unknowingly, words started to spurt out his mouth, as his rage slowly built up. Unknowingly, Francis' grip started to get tighter, hurting Arthur's wrists.

"F-Francis, let go…" Arthur said, trying to get out of the grip, which was now hurting him. He felt like his skin was going to rip for some reason, fingernails are digging deep to his arms, and his wrist might crack any minute now.

"…" Not saying anything, he looked down, not knowing he was hurting the other.

"Seriously, l-let go…" The pain felt unbearable, and tears started to form.

"Please, let go of me! You're hurting me!" Arthur finally cried, causing Francis to let go of his wrist. His arms looked purple-red, and his hands trembled violently. There was slight blood coming from the wounds of where his nails dug in. It was obviously going to leave a mark. He couldn't feel his hand that well. Francis stared with wide eyes at the wounds that he caused. He seemed lost of words. Arthur just started to cry when Francis was about to reach out for his arms.

"Don't touch me!" He started to throw whatever he had in reach, whether it was combs or cologne bottles. He even threw his Flying-Mint Bunny at him.

"I-I'm sorry, Arthur. I didn't mean to hold you that tightly…" Francis said, dodging all the items.

"That's what you always say! Now look at when you don't mean to do anything!" Before he could go on, he heard light footsteps near the door. They both turned towards the direction of the door. There stood their sons, Alfred with Matthew behind him, looking like he was holding back tears. Arthur quickly hid his bloodied arms behind him.

"D-Dad? What's going on?" Alfred asked, his voice shaking. Matthew whimpered when he heard Alfred spoke.

"Alfred. _Mathieu_. It's nothing-" Francis started, but was quickly cut off.

"Boys. Go pack your things." Both of the children looked confused as of what Arthur had said.

"W-What? Why…"

"Do not ask questions! Just pack your clothes and other necessities right now!" At the command, they both scurried of to their rooms, not asking any questions.

"You are not seriously going to leave? And take the boys with you?" Francis asked his voice now hoarse. Arthur said nothing, and quickly grabbed the rest of his clothing and books that he kept in the room. He picked up his bag and violin case, and grabbed the set of keys that were on the dresser. He started to walk towards the door, with Francis right behind him. He paused right outside their room, turned around and whispered:

"Yes I am. Goodbye, Francis." And he quickly closed the door before Francis could even get out. Using the set of keys he had, he locked the door, causing Francis to be locked in. When the door is locked from the outside, it's possible to open the door from the inside if they had the key for it. Same way vise-versa. They never really knew why the creator of the house did that. Arthur was partly glad that they did.

"Arthur! Open the door!" He yelled from the other side, banging on the door that made Arthur shudder. He picked his stuff again, and went to Alfred's and Matthew's room. They already had their bags packed. Matthew decided to pick up the polar bear pet he had. Arthur was about to say something against it, but he decided against it. It's not worth the time.

"Come along, now," he said bluntly. Dragging both of them down the staircase and into the car without saying anything, Arthur walked up the steps to lock the front door. He couldn't hear any more banging, and he just locked the door and left in the car.

"Dad, where are we going?" asked the quiet whisper of Matthew. Both he and his brother were in the back of the car, with Arthur driving behind the wheel. He just stared blankly at the road in front of him, not caring what turns he took. He hadn't actually decided on where he's going.

He had decided to park on the side of the road, knowing full well that the cops would kill him for staying too long. He just needed time to think.

"Dad?" asked Alfred.

"…" Arthur did not respond, and looked straight ahead.

"Dad!" Matthew asked, a little louder than usual. Irritated, Arthur turned around and snapped.

"What do you want, Matthew?! Can't you see that I am bloody thinking at the moment?! What are you, bloody blind or something?!" Matthew sunk back in his seat, squeezing his polar bear, and looked like he was going to cry. Alfred looked at both him and his father, worried.

"That wasn't nice, Dad," Alfred muttered, patting Matthew to calm him down.

"I-I d-didn't me-mean to up-upset you, Dad," Matthew whispered, taking small gulps of air to calm him down. Arthur felt a pang of guilt. How could he yell at his kids? At a time like this, too, when he didn't want anything bad happening and no idea what's going on.

"I'm sorry for yelling Matthew. I just…" He stopped. The more he stared at Matthew, he noticed how he had Francis' blonde, wavy hair, and beautiful eyes, and…He ended up crying out of nowhere, his head resting on the wheel of the car.

"Dad?" Matthew whispered, getting off his seat. "Don't…"

"…Cry," Alfred finished, wrapping his arms around his dad the same time as Matthew, trying to sooth him.

"I just….I'm sorry…" Arthur whispered, trying to calm down.

"Why did we leave Pa-"

"Alfred!" Matthew warned to his brother, knowing well what his brother was going to say. Instead, he took over. "We should go, Dad. We can't stay here forever."

"Yes. I know." Arthur whispered, regaining his composition. "Thank you, boys…" Alfred and Matthew returned to their seats, and remained silent for the rest of the ride.

"Where are we going?" Alfred asked cautiously.

"…I guess we'll just go to your aunt's house and sees what happens next."

And after a going towards Arthur's Scottish brother's house, he came to a decision. A decision that made him secretly regrets it later…


	2. Chapter 1

"Kuma, give that back!" Francis Bonnefoy groaned when he heard his son yelling at someone in the kitchen. He rolled over his bed, and opened one bleary eye to look at the ceiling. Slowly opening the other one, he glanced at the clock in his room. He let out another groan when he realised how 'early' it was in the morning. Francis took a quick glance outside his window, to be welcomed by the sun of the February morning.

There was no way Francis cannot go back to sleep at that rate. Curiously, he decided to go to the main floor to see what was going on. He ignored the fact that he still had his uniform from the previous night on, and he continued to walk out the door and down the stairs.

He came near the doorway that led to the kitchen, and he peeked inside. He found his son, Matthew, sitting on the floor, with a letter in his hand. His wavy strawberry blonde hair fell elegantly forward, covering his face. Francis had no idea what he was doing.

"Bon matin," Francis said, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. He leaned against the door-way tiredly. He was still tired from his shift from last night. He placed a hand on his chin curiously. " **Tu faisais beaucoup du bruit.**   _< You were making a lot of noise.>_" Matthew took notice of Francis, and looked up.

"Ah, Papa! Salut!" his son exclaimed as he stood up. He still had the letter in his hand. " **Je m'excuse. Est-ce que je t'ai réveillé?**   _< I'm sorry. Did I wake you up?>_"

" **Ouais, mais c'est d'accord. Qu'est-ce que c'est ça dans votre main?**   _< Yeah, but it's alright. What's that in your hand?>_"

" **C'est juste une lettre. Elle a été envoyé par une école secondaire! Er, est-ce-que c'est d'accord si je téléphone Dad et Alfred maintenant?** _< Just a letter. It was sent by a secondary school. Um is it okay if I can call Dad and Alfred?> _You can read the letter now if you want!"

"Go ahead," Francis replied, moving a bit so Matthew can leave. When Matthew was in the hallway, Francis took the opportunity to walk up to the kitchen counter, picking up Matthew's pet polar bear on the way. Holding the letter in one hand, Francis started to scan through it. He smiled as he saw the results of his son's hard work on paper.

"So, you got into the school you wanted to get in." Francis thought happily, glad his son got it. He was a smart kid, and his brother, Alfred was also smart. It's a great opportunity for both of them to go to an excellent school together: Roma's International Academy. It's also a good thing that they went because their Dad, Arthur, can keep an eye on them…especially since Francis can't.

 _Arthur…_ Francis thought sadly at the name. _I wonder how he's doing…_

* * *

 

"What is Alfred doing now?" Arthur Kirkland muttered to himself, as he heard his son talking nonstop, and opening the door out of their apartment. He thought he'd be able to sleep in that day. But, it seems like there is no way that's going to be happening.

Arthur stretched his arms out tiredly, sitting up. Then he flopped back down on his bed. He doesn't want to leave. But he can't bloody go back to sleep. Cursing, Arthur heaved his legs out of his bed, making his way tiredly to wash himself for the day.

By the time he came out, he could hear Alfred in the living room, chattering away. Curiously at who and why Alfred was talking non-stop (although, it was normal for Alfred to do so), Arthur walked into the living room with some sweatpants and shirt.

"Alfred, why are you up so early?" Arthur asked, passing by Alfred who was lying on the couch with a phone in one hand, and a hamburger in the other. Arthur went straight to the kitchen to fix himself a tea. "Why are you eating a hamburger for breakfast?"

"Yo, Dad!" Alfred said, noticing his father.

"Can you at least say a good morning?" Arthur said with a sigh. Has he really grown him up that way? Matthew turned out way better than him.

"What, doesn't a 'Yo' count as a 'Hello'?" Alfred asked from his couch. "What? Oh, sorry Mattie. I was talking to Dad….Tell him the news? What news? ...Oh! Right, dude! I'll tell him. Or do you want to talk to him? ...Yeah, I'll tell him then. Are you coming over? ...Oh, okay, bye bro!"

Arthur heard Alfred hang up the phone with a loud tap on the 'end call' button, and wrapping paper crumbling. Alfred walked into the small kitchen, tossing the wrapper into the waste bag. He failed, however, and he forced himself to bend over and put the wrapper in properly.

"Matthew's coming over," Alfred said bluntly, brushing past Arthur and rummaged through the fridge. "Is that fine?

"Oh?" Arthur said, as he put a packet of tea in a cup, and stirred the hot water in it. "Matthew's coming over at this time? It's kind of cold outside, isn't it? You sure he'll be fine walking outside?"

"Whoa there Dad," Alfred said, taking out a can of coke. "It's too early on a Saturday for so many questions!" Arthur walked up to him and grabbed the coke out of his hands.

"And it's too early on a Saturday to drink pop," Arthur said, putting the coke back in the refrigerator. Alfred pouted, trying to put on puppy eyes. It wasn't very effective…

"So, Matthew's coming over? Will he be walking here?" Arthur said, turning his back to get his tea. Alfred secretly took back his pop.

"Yeah. He says he'll just walk. He doesn't want to ask Papa." Arthur felt himself stiffen when Alfred said his other dad.

"Why doesn't he ask Francis? What's he so busy with?" Arthur said his voice suddenly colder. Alfred took note of how his Dad said his Papa's name, and proceeded with caution.

"Papa had work last night, and he worked for a long time-"

"Pfft. As if he was 'working'," Arthur muttered under his breath, as he sipped his tea. "He still works at that bar, right?"

"Why are you asking me?" Alfred said with a shrug. "Why don't you ask him yourself?" Arthur looked over at Alfred, narrowing his eyes. Alfred knew full well about his parents' relationship. It was foolish of him to say so.

"Really, Alfred?" Arthur said. "You're his son, shouldn't you know-"

"And, you're his husband! Or, ex-husband…But still!"

"Alfred-"

"Why don't you talk to him yourself, if you care so much? Hasn't it already been too long for you to stay mad at him?"

"Alfred!"

"What, Dad?" Alfred snapped, irritated. Always in these arguments was Alfred ready with comments.

"I only simply asked you one question. And do not speak to me in that tone. Understand?"

"…" Alfred did not reply, and just walked out of the kitchen. Arthur sighed in disappointment at his attitude. He's at that age, Arthur thought.

"What is it that you were about to tell me?" Arthur asked, remembering how Alfred was telling Matthew how he was going to tell Arthur the good news. Alfred lay on the couch, and looked at him confusingly.

"I was going to tell you something?" Alfred looked up, putting on a thinking face. He then snapped his fingers together when he remembered. "Oh, right! You know how me and Matthew-"

"Matthew and I," Arthur corrected him.

"…Yeah, how me and Matthew took the exam to go to R.I.A? The international academy you teach English at? The one near here?" Arthur groaned at Alfred's terrible grammar and selection of words. He then rubbed his temple irritably.

"Yes," Arthur said slowly, urging him to go on.

"Yeah, well, guess what? We got in." Arthur stared at him blankly, with wide eyes.

"…What?"

"Um, me and Matthew-"

"Matthew and I."

"-got in. We passed the exam!" Alfred looked at Arthur confusingly. "Aren't you happy?"

"Y-Yes, of course I am!" Arthur said, completely surprised. "I mean, I understand Matthew getting in, but I never expected you to!"

"…Wow. That was super harsh and blunt of you, Dad." Alfred said with a huff.

"I'm not the one with the terrible grammar… Oh, I was just joking, Alfred! You know that." Arthur said playfully, seeing how Alfred was glaring at him. "Really! I'm glad for both you and Matthew-"

"Shouldn't it be 'Matthew and you'?" Alfred said, seeming to find an opportunity to talk smart. "Since I have to say 'Matthew and I'."

"…No, sweetheart. It's fine to say 'you and Matthew'. Please, can you not correct the English teacher who has more knowledge in the English language?" Alfred muttered under his breath how all his Dad actually has to make him sound smart was his British accent.

Suddenly, the two heard the front door open and close. They both looked to the direction of the door, to find Arthur's other son (and Alfred's brother), Matthew, in the process of taking off his shoes.

"Oh," he said (whispered) as he saw Alfred and Arthur. "Good morning," he said with a smile. His face was red as he took off his hat. This makes Arthur to bring back to the previous topic he was wondering about.

"Good morning Matthew," Arthur said, walking up to him and placing his hands over his cheeks. His face was freezing against Arthur's hands. "Oh! Mattie, you're freezing! Why did you walk here? Couldn't you have asked Francis?"

"N-No," Matthew muttered, glancing at Alfred, as if asking for help. "He was tired, so I didn't want to-"

"If you really want to know, Dad," Alfred said. "Then maybe you should just talk to Papa." Arthur scowled at Alfred, before letting go of Matthew's face. He quickly changed topics.

"So, I heard you got accepted! Good job Mattie. As a celebration, I shall make some scones. It'll only take a few minutes, now!" Arthur made a bee-line towards the kitchen. Alfred and Matthew stared at each other, not liking the sound of that, and made a quick escape towards their bedroom.

 _I don't need to talk to Francis_ , Arthur thought to himself furiously. _I don't need to know how he's doing or what he's doing. Not like he'd care for me…We haven't talked for a year, so he wouldn't care about me at all. Nor should I._


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the last chapter I wrote long time ago. From here on out, i'll have write and update this story weekly! The next chapter is the newest one.
> 
> There will be OCs in this story, the main one being a character named Percy (I was going to change it to an actual Hetalia character, but I didn't want to use them to throw them away at the end if that makes sense).
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this little chapter~

"Good evening, Francis!" Francis looked behind him to see the person who had called him.

" _Bon soirée_ , Katyusha!" He replied back with a smile, as he saw the woman. "Don't you have work tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I do," said the woman, her voice with an accent similar to a Russian accent. The woman had short, ashy grey hair, her bangs held back by a yellow ribbon. There was a slight pink colour that brushed her white skin, as if she just came back from walking outside in the cold, Canadian winter. She was wearing the same uniform that Francis was wearing, but there were slight changes: instead of a black tie with her white collared shirt, she had a black bow on and a black skirt. "As always, I'm only helping out here until more workers come. But, it seems like it's not going to be busy tonight."

Francis glanced around the bar for a moment. Katyusha was right. It was quite rare for the bar to be this empty. The bar was quite popular for their imported vodka, and many people come there just to hang out with coworkers after a long day at work. Usually music would be playing, and some may even dance to it.

"Mhm, you're right," Francis said, returning his look at Katyusha. He felt like he had to tell her something…but what was it?

"Oh!" he said, suddenly remembering the good news he was about to share. "I almost forgot! How foolish of me. You know that Academy you work at?"

"Uh-huh," Katyusha said, as if she was expecting something grand.

"Both my sons have been accepted to attend," Francis said proudly, smiling. "You should expect them to be in one of your classes!"

"That's great, Francis!" Katyusha said happily; glad to see her friend being so proud. "Although, I don't think either of them might end up in my class. If they decide to take Ukrainian, Russian, or any of the Family and Social Sciences classes as their eight subjects, then they'd be expecting it. Other than that, I'm pretty sure I'd encounter them in the hallways."

"Ah, right! You don't really teach out of those three subjects, do you?"

"They're what I do best. Unless they decide to take Parenting in grade 11."

"I remember you took that subject when we were in grade 11! It was such a pain in the ass…"

"Yeah, it was," Katyusha said, smirking at the remembrance of another detail. "Not only was that annoying, but **Arthur** would complain and yell at us to shut it up!" Katyusha immediately realised mentioning Francis' ex, and felt like slapping herself (she did so mentally). However, there was no change of expression from Francis, and he still was smiling.

"It was quite a nuisance, the both of them," Francis said, but he only seemed to be joking. "How is Arthur doing, anyway? You see him every day at your work, right?"

Katyusha stood frozen, biting the bottom of her lip nervously. She had an internal conflict with herself, trying to decide whether she should really respond to that question.

"He's…alright." Francis didn't seem to take note of how her voice sounded uncertain, and continued to wash the glasses.

"Still over-working himself?"

"Yes…" Suddenly Katyusha felt uncomfortable at the conversation. She sighed in relief when a customer called over a bartender. Francis turned away from her and made his way towards the man who called him.

She watched Francis, with a hint of sadness in her eyes, as he was happily took the customer's order. He was still smiling, and he seemed to have ignored about who they were speaking of. Someone else called for a bartender, and Katyusha was forced to tear her gaze away from the French-man and turn her back to him.

Francis went to fill out a cup of German beer for the man who had called him, and took out a bottle from a cupboard. As he filled in the glass, he paused and set the bottle down. He looked down, smiling sadly. He placed a hand into his pocket, and felt a small, cold metal against his fingertips. He took the object off and realised it was a golden ring- his _wedding_ ring.

 _So_ , he thought. _Arthur's doing fine with me, huh?_ He allowed a few tears to slip, before brushing them away quickly with his sleeves.

* * *

"What's this?" Arthur muttered to himself, as he picked up a small, blue velvet box that was on the floor in his closet. He brought it up close to his face, turning the small box a few times for examination.

Originally, that night was supposed to be spent correcting tests and grading assignments for Arthur. However, during the middle of his work, he felt the need to procrastinate, and decided to busy himself by cleaning his bedroom. He wouldn't have done much work anyway if he had decided to sit on the dining table, since both Matthew and Alfred had decided to play video games in the living room. Arthur can hear them clearly from his room, even though he told them not to yell since it was already so late into the night.

"Head-shot! Ha ha! Did you see that, Mattie?" Alfred yelled proudly. He was most likely playing the game and Matthew was just the observer.

"Behind you!" Said the soft voice of his brother, Matthew.

"Wha-? Oh fuck! No fair, brah! I didn't see that!"

"Alfred!" Arthur yelled sternly through the door. "No swearing."

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry Dad. Oh, shit!"

"Alfred, if I hear you say such vulgar words in my house-"

"I told you, 'yeah, yeah'! Geez, Dad. Cut me some slack."

Arthur just rolled his eyes at his younger son's behaviour, and drew his attention back towards the box in his hand. Carefully, he opened the box. An unusual feeling built up inside of Arthur as he stared at the two rings that sat inside the velvet box.

There was one ring of silver colour and another ring of gold colour. Both represented something different for Arthur; at the same time, both reminded him of the same thing. Arthur was about to close the box and toss it back in the closet, but instead, he decided against it.

"…I wonder if they would fit," he said to himself, taking out one ring at a time.

He slipped on the silver one first through his finger. The silver one seemed simple, but expensive; it had four, small diamonds that adorned it. It was able to go through Arthur's finger with some ease, but it took Arthur a while to take it off and place it back into the box. He then tried the gold one on. There were small, pretty designs carved into the gold, and one, small diamond in the middle. Arthur had tried to tell the one who gave it to him that it was just a wedding ring, and there was no need to do anything special to it. Nevertheless, the one who got it still bought it for his one and only Arthur, despite what he said.

As soon as Arthur put on the golden ring, he felt a soft, warm glow inside of him. The feeling of the ring made him feel…nice and warm on the inside. Realising that he was smiling the entire time, he quickly wiped off the smile and replaced it with a scowl. He looked at the ring, seeming like he was about to take it off. But, instead, he left it there for a while.

Huffing, Arthur laid on the bare floor on his back. He started to twirl the ring around a bit.

 _Why do I feel like this?_ He thought glumly. _It's been nearly two years since we separated. I thought I'm over_ _ **him**_ _…No, wait! I am over him! What are you talking about, Arthur? Of course you're over_ _ **Francis**_ _!_ Arthur intake a sharp breath when he realised that he was thinking about his ex.

The mere thought of the name Francis sickens him more than saddens him. He dislikes that Frenchman with a burning passion. After what he did to Arthur -after what he's been most likely been doing behind his back after so many years-, Arthur would never, ever talk of him, or even think to him.

Arthur suddenly felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He completely forgot about the ring, and he fished out his phone. He smiled when he saw the Caller ID.

"Hullo?" Arthur asked the caller, knowing full well who it is.

"Hello? Arthur?" Said a masculine voice over the other line.

"Yes?"

"O-Oh. Hi, Arthur. This is Percy. U-Um, from the museum..."

"Oh, hi, Percy! Why do you call?"

"U-Um, I was just wondering if you're free tomorrow during the afternoon, that's all…"

"Hm, hold on one minute," Arthur faked, secretly pumping his hand in the air. "…Yes, I'm free tomorrow. Why?"

"Oh, I was just wondering…um…if you, you know…want to go out to lunch with me?"

"Oh, uh, well, sure. What time?"

"Eleven, if that's alright with you."

"I'm alright with that," Arthur said with a smile.

"Okay then…Um, I'll see you tomorrow then. Have a good night."

"You too." Once Arthur ended the call, he smiled idiotically and threw a fist in the air. _Yes!_ Recently, Arthur had met a man of the name Percy at a museum. He was really cute in Arthur's opinion, and he shared a similar interest in mythical creatures. After his separation with his ex-husband, Arthur needed to find someone new. And Percy is the perfect guy to fill in the role.

Arthur glanced down at his golden ring. He suddenly felt a pang of guilt, but shrugged it off and placed the ring inside the velvet box. He looked at the box once more, before he tossed it inside the last drawer of his dresser.

He is not going to be held back. It was high time that he moved on.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! Finally, a new chapter for this story! It's still not matching up with the other ones, but I wanted to give you guys more glimpses into Arthur's and Francis' life before jumping into it.
> 
> Here are the nations who make an entrance (or are talked about):
> 
> Mogen Lars - The Netherlands  
> Emma (Lars) - Belgium  
> Krishna Rangarajan - India  
> An Dao - Vietnam  
> Eduard von Boch - Estonia  
> Romulus Vargas - Ancient Rome  
> Alaric Beilschmidt - Germania  
> Amanika Okafor - Kenya
> 
> Fair warning, I used a translator for the German parts in this; if anyone would like to help me actually translate some German sentences, I would be extremely thankful!
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for being supportive and continuing to read this story! Thank you Fruk-des-Lys and 5ft8in_fangirl for the comment, and to those who subscribed! I hope you enjoy this chapter~
> 
> Update: Another big thank you for glasrain who helped me translate the German sentences properly :') I'm grateful for the translations and explanations you have provided!

_This is the fifth time I’ve read them write ‘they’re’ than their’_ , Arthur thought grudgingly, circling the word on the paper in front of him with a red pen. I’m going to give them a piece of my mind tomorrow.

It was nearing the end of the school day and Arthur was in his classroom -the classroom officially dubbed 'his classroom' because that’s where he teaches all of his classes for the past near decade at the academy- correcting his homeroom students’ essays. The theme of their essay was a personal event that directly affected them in their life, in the proper essay format of introduction, body, and conclusion. He knew the first year students weren’t as advanced with writing essays, and this was a way for him to understand what level of writing they’re at.

His desk sat in front of the blackboard that cover one side of the classroom wall, with the desks being put in a U-shape in front of his desk, the space in between being used for students to stand and do their presentation. The front half of the class where Arthur’s desk sat at was lit up, with the other half being exposed to whatever light entered through the windows that lined up along one side of the wall. The windows were left opened, allowing the fresh spring air to enter and ventilate the room.

It was fourth period (the academy doing a four period system per day), and Arthur had that block of time off. He would usually go home when he was free at the end of the day, however he would stay behind even past fourth period so he could get more work and corrections done; when Alfred was home, he would find himself more distracted due to all the noise his son would make doing god knows what.

This semester, he was mostly handling the lower years. And god did he hate it.

Usually his classes were filled with well-behaved students, but this semester, he had the luck of teaching two Year 1 English classes in the first half of the day and one Year 4 Creative Writing class that was during third period. His Year 4 class was well behaved, being the eldest students and having gotten over their immaturity from the previous years, but his Year 1 class was a complete 180 from what he usually had.

Especially his homeroom class. He had the unfortunate luck of teaching the vice-principle’s, Alaric Beilschmidt's, infamous first year grandson – Gilbert Beilschmidt. It wasn’t like Arthur didn’t handle troublesome students before; he had plenty of practice throughout his years of teaching.

He had to teach Lovino Vargas, the grandson of Romulus Vargas (the founder and principle of this institute) during his first two years at the academy. Not even Lovino was as bad, though. In fact, it’s incomparable.

Sure, the little Italian had a potty mouth, and he was crude and feisty towards his male peers, but he got along well with his female peers who he mostly talked to during class, and he didn’t directly cause Arthur a major headache as Gilbert did. At least Lovino handed in his assignments on time and shows up to class.

He’s never had to teach Mr. Beilchmidt’s punk prior to this semester; but Krishna Rangarajan, the science teacher Arthur is friends with and speaks to often, has told him enough about Gilbert’s behaviour throughout his Year 1 Science class to trigger Arthur to consider to going to a church.

Not to say that Arthur can’t handle his type before. He’s had students who were slackers, who skipped classes, and who were feisty but Gilbert had his own little problems; the amount of times that he told Arthur to “fuck off” and almost threw a punch at another student for cussing at him within the first month was horrendous.

Arthur is tough to the core, and all the students know how cruel he can be; with his tough deadlines and marking, the way he shuts a student down cruelly when they attempt to be a smartass, and mastering the scowls that sends shivers down ones spine, no one would ever dare backtalk him.

Except for Gilbert, of course.

A little boy doesn’t scare him at all, although now every morning he has to pray Gilbert doesn’t do anything if he decides to show up to class at all. As his homeroom teacher, Arthur has a bit more responsibility over what he does than other teachers; it’s just a thing that happens at this school apparently. If something happened to a student or they do something troublesome, then the homeroom teacher gets notified about it right away.

Today, Gilbert didn’t show up to class for most of the time until the last five minutes to give Arthur his essay piece.

_“Where were you for the first hour and thirty minutes?” Arthur asked sternly, standing up with his arms crossed. It was only him and Gilbert in the room. The students already filed out to get to their next class. The boy stood there, his eyes squinting, red eyes glaring back. One hand was in the pocket of his black uniform pants, with the other one pushing back his spiky silver hair back. He shrugged his shoulders._

_“Does it matter, sir?” He said, maintaining eye contact, his mouth forming a thin pink line on his pale ivory face. He wasn’t as tall as Arthur, but the way he was standing made it seem like he was making himself bigger, in a more intimidating way._

_“I can’t accept this, Gilbert,” Arthur replied, pushing his essay towards him. “How do I know if you actually did the work? You were never in class when you were supposed to be working on it. I haven’t even seen a single draft-“_

_“Fine. Take it in or don’t, I don’t care. It’s un-awesome that I did all that work, but, it’s not my problem anymore, so you can stop bugging me if I’m working on it or not,” Gilbert replied, turning around._

_“Excuse me?” Arthur asked gravely. How rude! “You do not speak me with that sort of attitude-“_

_“Who are you, my dad?” Gilbert replied quickly. “I gave you the assignment, now leave me alone, fuck.”_

_Before Arthur could say anything, the boy left, leaving Arthur in the classroom alone._

“I hope neither Alfred and Matthew turn out like that,” he mumbled to himself.

Once he found out that they both will be attending this academy, he was happy that he’d be able to be around them more, but now was slightly worried for them being near a fighter like Gilbert. He put the finished essay to the side, and picking up the next one.

Just his luck; the next essay he picked up was Gilbert’s. He looked at it for a few minute, before opening the file cabinet beside his desk and placing the essay inside. He was going to go through with his word and not accept his work. He'll give him a 20% for handing it on time, though, just because he pitied him.

He glanced at the clock hanging above the door. Suddenly the bell rang, signalling the end of the day.

 _Well, I made good progress for an hour and half of work,_ he thought, looking with satisfaction at the small pile of essays he had finished correcting. He could hear the sound of the chairs squeaking from the classroom above his, and the stumbling footsteps of students leaving their classroom to go into the hallways. It was barely a second before he could hear talking and yelling from the students in the hallways.

 _Can’t they be a bit quiet?_ Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples at the sounds. He decided to take his time packing his things; he rather not try getting through a pack of pheromone exerting students to get to his car in the parking lot.

He got off from his chair and started to put all the essays in his brown messenger bag, along with a few files, his laptop, and travelling mug in the side sleeve. It was a Friday, and he knew that students would be leaving the academy quickly to embrace the weekend. He put on his thin, navy blue trench coat, taking out his keys from the pocket and grabbing his phone from the desk.

He opened the door and he watched as the students passed by. The hallway was sparsely filled with students, most at their lockers that lined up in front of his class.

“Hey, Mr. Kirkland, aru!” said a student he recognized quickly.

“Yao, hello,” he replied to the boy.

Yao Wang was a Chinese international student he had the previous semester for Year 3 English. He was a short boy, with cream skin and long dark brown hair that was pulled back in a ponytail. He was wearing the typical uniform with the sleeves of the collar white shirt slightly longer that it covers his hand, tucked into the beige pants. He was accompanied with another student that was in the same Year 3 class: a domestic student named Sadik Adnan. He was taller than both Yao and Arthur, with tan skin and dark brown hair, cut short. “And Sadik. Where are you two off? Going straight home to finish your homework?”

“Yeah right,” Sadik laughed. “We’ve both got a club meeting right now.”

“For what exactly?”

“The Gourmet Appreciation Club that just started up, aru!” Yao exclaimed, grinning.

“The one Mr. Rangarajan is running?” Arthur asked, amused at the name. It’s a new club he heard Krishna talk about. He found it an uncanny club, but he didn’t voice his opinion to Krishna at the time. Especially since he knows Krishna would argue that the Black Magic Club he ran was also equally uncanny. “Don’t all you guys do is eat bloody food in that club?”

“No, we also learn how to make the food too, aru! Today, we will be tasting the gourmet cuisine from France!” Yao said, excitement evident in his voice. Something triggered in Arthur hearing the word ‘France’ but he didn’t show his distaste in in front of his students.

“Well, I’m not going to keep you here,” Arthur said, closing the classroom door behind him and locking it. “I’ve got essays to correct. Have a good time.”

“We will. Later, sir!” Sadik replied. With that, the two walked away towards the double doors to the staircase. Arthur was about to the walk down the hall that led to the foyer, before he heard something heavy fall nearby the same staircase doors.

“Ms. Braginski, are you alright?” He could hear Yao ask.

Arthur turned around, to see Katyusha, his long time friend and fellow Social Science teacher, kneeling to pick up a box that was on the ground, while holding another equally big box in one arm. Sadik was picking up the box that had fell, and Yao stood nearby, worry on his face. Arthur felt happiness seeing his close friend, and walked up towards her.

“Aiyaah,” Yao said worryingly. “Miss, for someone who told us to be careful with holding things properly, you really aren’t careful, aru.”

She laughed at Yao’s comment. “I only said that because you couldn’t hold onto the robotic baby properly. Oh, thank you Sadik.”

“Do you need help with that, Miss?” Sadik ask, holding onto the box.

“It’s alright, Sadik. I’ll take care of it,” Arthur replied as soon as he was nearby. Sadik handed him the box, and Arthur fell forward by the sudden weight. _What is she carrying in here??_  Arthur thought, holding the box with two hands.

“Thank you Arthur,” Katyusha said kindly, holding onto the box she had with one arm still.

“Okay, then we’ll see you around,” Sadik said, and with that, him and Yao took the flight of stairs to the floor below them.

“You shouldn’t be carrying all these things, Kat,” Arthur said with a worried voice. “You can really hurt yourself.”

“Oh, Artie, you worry too much!” Katyusha said with a laugh, extending an arm towards him to take the other box. “I’m strong enough to carry these two by myself! I just lost balance!”

“Don’t tell me you intend of bringing all these things by yourself to your car?” Arthur asked, not giving it to her. “At least let me help you. Why didn’t you message me that you needed help?”

“Well, I didn’t need help, one,” Katyusha replied, fixing her white, one strap bag. She pushed her blonde hair bangs to the side. “And I assumed that you went home right away, since you had fourth period off. And a Friday. I thought you’d retreat home to start watching that show _Misfits_.”

“I did, but I had to correct essays,” Arthur replied, starting to walk. Katyusha followed. “And if anything, I wanted to hang out with only you more out of school, Katyusha. Feels like we’ve only hung out during lunch and for coworkers outings to the bar.”

“Well, things have been really busy with me,” Katyusha replied. “Ivan and Natalia have been quite a handful lately-“

“And running the bar while your father is sick,” Arthur sigh. “And working as a teacher. Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I’ve got my hands full with Alfred and Matthew too, but not as much as you.”

“No, it’s alright Artie,” she said, smiling. “I’ve been wanting to hang out with you too. Why don’t we do something this Sunday? I’m mostly free this weekend, but I think we could both go out Sunday? I have to go to church with my dad, and afterwards drop Ivan to his doctor, but I can hang out from the afternoon on?” 

“Yeah, Sunday’s good for me too,” Arthur said with a smirk. “Besides… I have a date tomorrow.”

Katyusha stopped. “Percy?”

“Yes.”

"No."

"Yes!"

“You have to tell me everything that you planned when we get to the parking lot!” Katyusha exclaimed. They were now near the end of the hallway entering the foyer. To get to the parking lot, they would have went to the hallway that led down around the foyer straight to the doors to avoid the groups of students that clogged up the main area, but it was faster to cut through the foyer.

For some odd reason, though, the foyer area was crowded with more students than usual. They could hear yelling coming from the area closest to the doors that led to the auditorium.

“What’s going on here,” Arthur muttered to himself. He heard one of the security guards speaking through a communicator, heading straight the other side. He could see the Dutch gym teacher, Lars Jansen, walking towards the security guard with a glare. Some students were passing by Katyusha and Arthur, seemingly escaping the crowd, including the Romanian student that was apart of the Black Magic Club Arthur ran and a student in his homeroom class, Vladmir Lupei.

“Vlad,” Arthur called before the Romanian could scurry away.

“Hey, sir!” Vlad said cheerfully. “What’s up?”

“Do you know what’s happening?” Arthur asked, keeping an eye on what Mogen was doing. A mischievous smile grew on Vlad’s face.

“Oh, just Gilbert fighting some upperclassman.”

“Wha,” Arthur sputtered. “What do you mean fighting; with who-“

“Arthur, Katyusha, come here!” he heard Lars call out to him.

“Ah, I don’t know if you know him; some guy named Ivan?” Vlad said with a shrug, before briskly walking away from the two teachers, who were left flabbergasted.

The duo walked up to Lars, putting the boxes they were carrying to a save corner. Arthur realised that the students formed a semi circle around the two, chanting. There were a few holding their phones, video tapping what was happening.

“Fuck him up, Gilbert!”

“Look at that height difference; the shorter one’s going to get fucked up man.”

“Take your bets right here ladies and gents! It is currently 5:3 for Ivan!”

“Heard it was bloody Gilbert and Ivan who are in the middle,” Arthur asked once he reached Lars.

“Heard that too; no time to talk, backup's coming, you and me are going in to stop those two before anyone can do anything. Katyusha, help clear the students please. Let’s go.”

 _Of all the things to happen to me on a Friday_ , Arthur complained in his mind, trying to get through the students that were blocking his way. They could hear the two students yelling at each other.

“What’s your problem?” Arthur could hear the medium tone, Russian accent in the voice, and he knew it was Ivan.

“My problem? What’s yours Braginski?” He then heard the familiar voice of Gilbert yelling back. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you wanted to fight, you creep.”

“You’re imagining things Gilbert, you’re crazy!”

“Oh, I’m the fucking crazy one?!”

“Knock it off, Gilbert,” Arthur could hear a female voice from the centre, but couldn’t pinpoint who it was. “Just ignore him-“

“Move, Eliza.”

Arthur caught a glimpse of the centre of the semi circle, close to the auditorium doors. There stood Gilbert, along with Katyusha’s younger brother, Ivan. Ivan was a rather tall fellow, noticeably taller than Gilbert. He had pale white skin like Gilbert, and the blond silvery hair that almost resembles Katyusha’s. There was a girl with long brown hair that stood behind Gilbert. She was wearing a pink flower clip to the side, and the long sleeve shirt with red vest tucked into her black pants. Arthur caught a glimpse of her face, automatically recognising her as Elizabetha Héderváry, the school’s residential photographer.

Ivan started to laugh. “Man, Gilbert… Are you just picking a fight all because of what happened with Lovino? Is this really what this is all about.”

“You're fucked up-” Gilbert replied. 

“You're making a big deal out of nothing; and if anything he had it coming. It's just a small threat, nothing behind it. He deserved it-“

Before Ivan can say anything else, Gilbert ran up and swung a punch square on his jaw. Some student cheered at that moment, with Elizabetha being pulled back by another boy with short brown hair and glasses. Ivan reeled back, surprised by the attack. He touched his mouth, a bit of blood come out, and the area that was hit a raw red colour.

“Oh you’ve done it now,” Ivan hissed. Gilbert stood, ready.

They parried, Ivan throwing a punch, which Gilbert blocked. Ivan’s other hand punched upwards hitting him on his chin. Gilbert grunted, and Ivan pushed him off, before kicking him straight in the stomach when Gilbert was trying to shake off the shock.

“Put your phones away,” Lars barked. Both him and Arthur was in the middle now, the two boys punching each other and pushing each other on the wall. Gilbert somehow managed to hold Ivan against the wall, his hand on his shirt, and started punching him wherever he could.

“Ivan stop it right now,” Lars said, as Ivan pushed him away again. They were going to rush at each other, before Lars, being the more muscular one, took hold of Ivan by the stomach, pulling him back. Arthur stepped in between the two mostly facing towards Gilbert.

“That’s enough, both of you,” Arthur said, Gilbert stopping on his tracks.

“Kirkland,” Gilbert said, panting. “Move out of the way!” Gilbert tried going around Arthur, but Arthur managed to grab a hold of around his stomach with one arm, his other hand holding the arm he was going to swing towards Ivan.

“No, no you bloody don’t,” Arthur said calmly, dragging him back as he struggles to get free. “And don’t you dare think of punching me. Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Gilbert hissed, but he started to stop struggling, so Arthur let go of his arm. Arthur looked over to Lars, who had let go of Ivan at that point. Arthur could see purplish blue bruises forming along Ivan’s jaw and left cheek, his mouth covered by his hand as he lay against the wall. He leaned down to where his backpack sat, taking the pink scarf and tan trench coat that hung over it and slowly putting it on.

Gilbert was panting, catching his breath, and Arthur gently let go off him. He fell to his knees, his adrenaline slowing down, and the impact of the attacks finally hitting his body. The girl with brown hair, Elizabetha, rushed forward, along with the boy with glasses who pulled her aside, who Arthur realised, was Roderich Edelstein who was in his second period class. He decided it wasn’t his place to make contact with the boy, and he allowed the two to help him up.

Gilbert wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, a smudge of blood staining through the white fabric.

“Sir, we got this,” Elizabetha said, getting down on knee, holding his arm. “Are you alright?”

“Does he seem alright, Eliza?” Roderich said, frowning at Gilbert as he held on to his other arm. “C’mon, get up.”

“No need to be sassy,” Eliza replied back, and they both hoisted him to his feet.

Lars was telling the students closest to put away their phones and to disperse, with minimal efforts. Some from the outer circle were starting to leave, Katyusha telling them to get on with their day, but there were still students nearby, loudly chattering and yelling.

 _For god’s sake,_ Arthur thought, annoyed at how there was more noise than before. He was going to join Lars, but before he could say anything, they heard a voice.

“What is going on here?” The deep, stern voice said in a loudly behind the crowd.

Everyone fell silent. Everyone recognized the tone of that voice; they especially recognized the light German accent accompanied with it. Everyone turned around towards the direction of the voice.

A tall, male figure stood there, his arms behind his back, his legs slightly open like a military stance. The presence the man exerted was one of a strict lieutenant. Arthur noticed himself straightening himself slowly, and he noticed students were doing that same.

The man had long, blonde hair with a braid twisting back. He had white skin, more peachy than Gilbert’s, and piercing, clear blue eyes that scanned the scenery that lay before him. The air was suddenly tense, and Arthur held his breathe.

This was the sort of power that Alaric Beilschmidt had over people. He was actually a decent, level headed man, however, when he was serious and there was a disorderly situation, much like the one right now, well…he could be quite cruel. Cruel in the most professional way possible. Arthur never experienced it from him, but he’s seen students experience it and he’s usually happy he was never on the receiving end.

“Didn’t you hear what Mr. Jansen said?” Alaric said, his voice still maintaining a calm tone, but was still sharp and loud enough for everyone to hear. “There’s nothing to see here. Please leave the school in an orderly fashion. Do not make a mess while you leave. Also remember that resident students have a curfew of 10 o’clock tonight.”

And with that, the students silently dispersed, going down certain hallways and exiting through the front doors.

Alaric walked up towards them, taking his time. He observed Gilbert, then observed Ivan, who had Katyusha by his side, silently talking to him.

“Who started it?” Alaric turned to Arthur and Lars, no explicit expression on his face. “Arthur?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Arthur replied. “Katyusha and I just arrived when they started brawling with one another.”

“According the security guard and few students, they said that it was Gilbert who started it,” Lars said right after Arthur.

Alaric looked over towards Gilbert, who looked down. Again, his face was expressionless, though Arthur noticed his mouth formed a thinner line.

“Very well,” Alaric said. He looked at Roderich and Elizabetha. “You two should return to the dorms. Gilbert, Ivan; follow me to my office to discuss your punishment. Arthur and Katyusha; you two come along as well.”

And with that, he turned on his heel, and started to walk across the foyer towards the hallway that contained his office.

“We’ll see you later,” Elizabetha said to Gilbert, and Roderich mumbled an agreement. With that, the two walked towards the exit.

“I have coach the boys’ hockey team, so I can’t come along,” Lars said to Katyusha and Arthur. “I’ll see you two for Monday’s morning meeting, yeah?”

“God, don’t remind me of the bloody meeting,” Arthur said, trying to sound a tad bit cheerful.

“We’ll see you then, Lars” Katyusha said, trying to sound calm. Lars then left, leaving the two teachers with the students.

“Alright, go on ahead,” Arthur said to the two boys. They both glared at each other, before dragging themselves down the hallway.

This is not how I want to spend my Friday right after school, Arthur grudgingly thought, but followed them to Alaric’s office.

* * *

 “Hey, An,” Arthur said as he approached on of the administrators desk that sat at the back of the office. The female teacher, he was referring stood in the catwalk between the desks, her arm leaning over the countertop. She craned her neck to look over at Arthur, and Arthur noticed a male teacher standing in front of her, presumably talking to. “Eduard, don’t you have a musical rehearsal today?”

“Hey Arthur,” the woman said with a soft smile, her voice carrying a Vietnamese accent. An Dao was one of the IT teachers at the academy, alongside the male teacher she was talking to, who Arthur realized was Eduard von Bock. She had long, dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, and wispy bangs that framed her small face. She had big eyes with golden brown pupils, an ivory complexion, and was slightly shorter and slimmer than Arthur.

The man, Eduard, was a tall, average shaped man with a thin face that sported round, blue eyes behind round glasses. He had a peach white complexion, and dirty blonde hair that Arthur noticed must have been cut short very recently.

“I do, and I actually just came in to do an announcement to get all the students to the auditorium,” Eduard replied, an Estonian accent in his voice, a tired look on his usually happy face. “Man, some of these students can be so irresponsible. I was just about to leave, when I saw An. We were thinking of taking some of the Year 4 comp sci students who want to continue in the field to a Hackathon that’s happening at the University in the next town over.”

“Sounds like fun,” Arthur replied, not wanting to get into a conversation with Eduard and An over these things.

He was never a techy guy to begin with; the closest thing he does tech wise was typing on his laptop or using his smartphone to play on apps. If something was broken, well, he either consulted An about it, or he’d ask Alfred (who would ask ‘did you try turning it off and on?’). There was a reason why he got a major and minor in two things that didn’t come close to the IT field.

“Is Amanika in?” Arthur asked, tilting his head towards the slightly opened door that was at the end of the hall. A silver sign was plastered on the door, with the words etched in ‘School Nurse Amanika Okafor’ on two separate lines.

“Yeah, she just is,” An replied. “I think she finished an appointment with a student just now.”

She glanced over Arthur’s shoulder, looking at the front of the office, where the chairs for guests were. There was the slightest hint of a cheeky grin on her face.

“Did your favourite student really fight Katyusha’s brother?” She asked, leaning back. Eduard, looked over to where she looked, and tried to hold back a laugh. Arthur knew she meant it as a joke, but he didn’t want to be reminded of what just happened.

“Your jokes never ceases to amuse me,” Arthur grumbled, folding his arms. “Mr. Beilschmidt asked me to get Amanika to check up on him. Between him and Ivan, he was the one who got battered up the most.”

“We’ll leave you to it, then,” Eduard said, starting to walk down the hallway.

“I’ll walk out with you,” An said, following Eduard. “Krishna wanted me to go watch this new, action Bollywood movie that’s out. My favourite Vietnamese actor is in it, so I’m tagging along with a few other teachers. That being said, I have to go home and get ready; I’m going to die if I’m stuck in this shirt any longer.”

They bid each other farewell, Arthur knocked on the door to the Nurses’ office.

“Come in,” a woman’s voice called from within. Arthur opened the door, and saw a woman sitting on a chair nearby the bed, looking down at a paper with a pen. The woman was wearing blue srubs, a stethoscope around her neck. She had curly black hair that was pulled back in a bandana, and a glowing dark brown complexion. She looked up to Arthur with her cool, brown eyes, before standing up.

“Oh, it is just you Arthur,” she said kindly, a Kenyan accent in her voice. “How can I help you today? Do you need Advil for a headache?”

“No, thank you for the consideration though, Amanika,” Arthur replied. “I just wanted to grab an ice pack. And I also got two students who needs to be checked up for any cuts and whatnot.”

“Oh my,” Amanika said, getting up to go to the mini freezer near her desk. She opened it to grab an ice pack, while continuing, “What happened?”

“Just two students decided it would be a good idea to get into a brawl,” Arthur replied with a sigh. Amanika walked up the door, a big ice pack in hand, wrapping it with a white towel. She handed it to him. “Hands and legs were swung today. Mr. Beilschmidt wants you to check on them.”

“Teenagers these days,” Amanika said with an ‘tsk’, as Arthur moved so she could walk in front of him down the hallway. “When things like this happen when I was growing up, they would’ve been stitched back together only to get a corporal punishment from the teacher for acting up. They should introduce it here.”

“I went to school in Britain and here, and unfortunately they don’t have it,” Arthur agreed, following her down to the guest area.

On the chair sat Gilbert. Ivan must have been inside Alaric’s office at the moment, discussing his punishment. There was a more noticeable blueish-purple bruise that covered half of his face, and there was swelling one of his cheeks. He had a cotton ball stuck in his mouth so it could absorb blood from the cut that was along his bottom gum. Gilbert didn’t look their way when they entered the guest area.

“Here, put it on your face,” Arthur said, handing him the packet. Gilbert looked at it for a second, before putting it on his face.

“Is there anything hurting at the moment?” Amanika asked, inspecting the swelling on his cheek.

“Other than my entire face? No. I don’t think anything’s broken either,” he replied, while she nodded.

“Where did you get hit other than your face?”

“My stomach.”

“I don’t see anything that would pose a threat to your health, but you might experience discomfort from you stomach,” she replied.

At that moment, Ivan and Katyusha emerged from outside, with Alaric walking out behind him. Ivan had similar injuries to Gilbert, but on a lesser scale.

“I’ll grab you an ice pack too,” Amanika said, before disappearing down the hall to her office.

“Have a good night, Katyusha, Ivan,” Alaric said to the two, as they stood idly. “Gilbert, to my office. I’m sorry Arthur, but I would like you to come too.”

“I’ll see you on Sunday, Arthur,” Katyusha said softly.

The two followed Alaric into his office, which was right across Romulus’ office. Arthur rarely ever went to his office, but when he did, he felt uneasy. The office was spacious, with a huge desk, a bookshelf and a filing cabinet to one side. It was orderly and proper- a bit too proper for Arthur’s taste. The floors were spotless and not a single book was out of line. Even the pen he was using sat straight beside the form he was filling out. There was a single plant in the corner, but that was really the only pop of colour that was in this office.

“Sit,” Alaric said- or more like demanded - to Gilbert. If Gilbert was afraid of anyone in this entire world, it must have been his grandfather; Arthur noticed how he immediately sat down. Arthur decided to stay standing, knowing it wouldn’t take long. There was silence between them, and Arthur had to loosen his tie to breathe in this tense atmosphere. There was still no expression on Alaric’s face and Gilbert only stared blankly at the plant.

“I didn’t start it,“ Gilbert finally said, his voice cracking. “He was antagonizing me-“

“Don’t speak, only listen,” Alaric said coldly. “From what Ivan said, he said that you hit him first.”

“Okay, I did, but –“

“I don’t want to hear it Gilbert,” Alaric said. “All I care about is who instigated the physical part. And from what Ivan, Mr. Lars, and Mr. Kirkland have told me, I know for a fact that you were the one who started it. Ivan will not be punished as severly, but I have given him cleaning duty for 2 days. As for you, you will have 2 week of cleaning duty, along with detention during lunch.”

“ **Willst du mich verarschen?** _< Are you kidding me?>_” Gilbert exclaimed, not realising he slipped into German. “ **Ich kann nicht glauben, dass du mit dieser Bastard! Er war gegen mich! _Er hat mich so dumm angeschaut und fing an diese ganze Scheiße zu sagen!_  ** _<_ _I can't believe you're siding with that bastard! He was antagonizing me! He was looking at me stupidely! >"_

“ **Ich sagte ich will kein Wort von dir hören!** _< I told you not to speak!>_” Alaric yelled loudly, his voice booming over Gilbert’s as he stood up. Gilbert pulled back his lips, and sat back, but rolled his eyes while doing so. " **Meine Entscheidung ist endgültig. Du wirst auf mich hören und deine Strafe annehmen. Hast du mich verstanden?**   _< My decision is final. You will listen to me and you will carry out your punishment. Do you understand?>"_

Arthur had no idea what either of them said, but when Alaric yelled, he was shaken by how scary and powerful he sounded. This was the first time he’s ever heard him well, and he was shook to the core. He was worried when he saw Gilbert’s reaction. How could he still give him attitude after yelling at him and looking like he was going to murder him?

Alaric took a deep breath, and sat back down in his chair.

“Arthur,” Alaric said suddenly, and Arthur straightened himself up. “If Gilbert doesn’t attend homeroom again during those two weeks, notify me right away. If he does it after those two weeks, then send him off to detention after school. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” Arthur said, trying not to sigh. _Great more responsibility over him._ Arthur looked over at Gilbert to see his reaction, but he went back to staring at the plant.

“What’s done is done. Wait outside for me,” Alaric said to Gilbert, and he turned to face Arthur. “Arthur, you may leave too, but I just wanted to tell you quickly; since your sons have accepted the admission to this academy, make sure to take their measurements, write it down in the form, and send it in. The sooner, the better. See you at Monday’s meeting.”

With that, Alaric handed Arthur a big yellow envelope, which he then placed in his messenger bag.  
I think I’m going to hug Alfred and Matthew when I see them, Arthur thought as he walked out. After witnessing how Gilbert was, he was suddenly grateful his sons were not as troublesome.

“Wait you have two sons?” Gilbert asked as they enter the guest area.

“Yes,” Arthur said, finally releasing the sigh he was holding onto. “They’ll be attending coming fall.”

Gilbert just nodded, and sat down on a chair.

“Well, I’ll see you in class on time, Gilbert,” Arthur said as he opened the door to leave.

“Yeah,” Gilbert simply replied back, placing the ice pack on his face.

Arthur left, and made his way through the school to the parking lot. He was near his car when he felt his phone vibrating in his jacket pocket. He pulled it out, and on his screen was the name Alfred, accompanied with multiple emojis that didn’t make sense to Arthur.

He’s been on my phone again, Arthur though, as he picked up the call.

“Hello?”

 _“Yo Dad!”_ His son exclaimed through the phone. _“Where are ya?”_

“Yo, Al,” Arthur replied, copying his American accent, annoyed at his use of ‘yo’. “Where are you?”

 _“Haha, your accent is so bad,”_ Alfred laughed. _“I’m at home, and we don’t have any food!”_

“Whu- Yes we do. I made food yesterday! Eat that and I’ll prepare dinner when I get home!” Arthur replied, opening the car door, before proceeding to start the engine.

 _“Sorry to say this Dad, but your cooking kind of sucks,”_ Alfred complained. “ _And I checked the fridge, and the food’s gone bad.”_

“Alright, then,” Arthur said, not wanting to argue with Alfred at the moment. “I’ll grab some junkie fast food on my way home. But I better see you doing homework once I enter through the door.”

 _“Aw, you know me! I always do my homework,”_ Alfred said. _“But thanks Dad. I’ll see you at home~”_

“Be safe, love, don’t open the door for stranger. I-“ Arthur started to say, but Alfred hung up on him. _I love you,_ Arthur thought. He pulled out of the parking spot, and started driving.

_I think I’m going to grab a glass of whiskey, sit in the tub, and watch reruns of Coronation Street on the laptop._


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! It's been a while, but I've been able to make a proper time line with this fic now and I think it will be easier for me to write this fic with normal-ish updates :')
> 
> I know, we've been mostly seeing Arthur's POV so far, and this chapter is really short; I was going to merge this with the next chapter (which is Francis' POV, btw) but then that handled a different issue, so I wanted this to just introduce Arthur's boyfriend...everyone's favourite, an OC younger me made, Percy :') (his full name mentioned lol) 
> 
> ALSO I did change some information, although it's minor: I changed their separation from four years to two years, just to make it a bit realistic with how they feel. I think after four years is kind of too long, so I think two years is appropriate.
> 
> Anyways, I would quickly like to say a big thank you for reading, liking, and subscribing to this little fic of mine! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying it so far. I've received criticism (which I really appreciate) about how I had set up why Arthur and Francis broke up, and I know it is a bit meh with some people...I look at it now and I curse younger me for breaking them up in an unrealistic way :'0. I'm trying to better it by adding more information about their marriage and stuff, so hopefully that would make the background info a bit better as to how Arthur could end it 'easily'
> 
> Anyways, I'll stop rambling, I hope you guys enjoy this short chapter and I'll try to put up the next one soon ^_^

“I’m so sorry, I know I’m late, Percy,” Arthur said, as he fumbled with his bag while taking a seat in the chair on the other side of the table.

“It’s alright, Arthur,” replied the man from across the table, smiling kindly, leaning back into his chair. “The traffic is terrible today.”

 “Yeah, it was just my luck,” Arthur tried to laugh, but he felt his heart skip a beat after seeing the man’s smile.

Traffic wasn’t the actual reason for him being late. In reality, when he heard that he was going to a restaurant in the city for their date, he took a good hour and a half choosing through the myriad of shirts and pants, trying to find something that didn’t make him look too uptight or too sleazy.

Alfred’s commentary throughout his fiasco didn’t really help him either.

_“Where are ya going?” Alfred asked, peering into Arthur’s room, noticing all the shirts strewn on the floor._

_“I'm just going to the city,” Alfred said, not looking at Alfred as he buttoned up his shirt. He settled on a pastel green button up shirt, along with a pair of black jeans. Not too formal, not too casual. Just perfect._

_“Why?” Alfred asked, walking in, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. He was wearing the white New York Yankees jersey he was gifted for his last birthday and a pair black sweatpants. He held a baseball bat under his arm, along with a glove. Alfred was going to go out and play baseball with Matthew and a few of his friends, Arthur figured._

_“Why are ya going to the city?” Alfred asked again. Arthur knew he had to thread carefully with his answers from here on out. He knew how much Alfred hated Arthur going out on dates, though, he never understood why._

_Arthur knew Matthew didn’t like it either, but Matthew was much more subtle about it than Alfred; Matthew was more passive aggressive about it, whereas Alfred was more directly aggressive, making snide remarks._

_It made sense how they were uncomfortable with the idea after separating with his ex-husband, Francis; When Arthur expressed the idea of him seeing other people, the two were vocal about their distaste. They were only children, after all, so Arthur swore off dating until they were a bit older and the idea of him and Francis no longer being together would settle in. And he needed time to heal from his relationship from the man he was with for more than a decade, and be comfortable with his new independence._

_He dated another person casually for a bit, before this new person, and when he told Alfred and Matthew about it well…Let’s just say they were hostile towards this person when they first saw him, and tried to talk Arthur out of it._

_With this person, Arthur didn’t want to mess up. He felt that he introduced his partner to his kids too early, so this time he was going to take it slow. He was seeing this person for the past month, and it’s still casual between them. He didn’t want to bring up the fact he was dating someone to his sons without knowing if it was going to be serious._

_“Well, I have to get out of the flat sometimes, Alfie,” Arthur replied, glancing at his son, who walked in, a soda in hand, casually sipping it while still glaring._

_Alfred wasn’t as tall as Arthur, so he was glaring up to Alfred, but he was already quite tall for his age. He will end up growing in high school, which Arthur didn’t like the idea of. Sometimes he wishes his son would remain an adorable size forever._

_“Are you going out with Katyusha?” Alfred asked, not giving up on being nosey. Arthur continued to comb through the mess that was his blond hair._

_“No,” Arthur replied, looking at his eyebrows. God, he forgot to shape them. He’s going to have to ask Katyusha to help him even it out._

_“Coworkers?”_

_“I think you know I’m not going to a casual outing with coworkers,” Arthur said quickly, facing Alfred. Alfred as a frown, but Arthur couldn’t take him serious; he sort of puffed up his face when he didn’t like something or was angry, a trait him and Matthew both shared. He just looked like a cute child._

_“Listen, Alfred,” Arthur continued, taking the cologne from his dresser and spraying it on to his wrists and neck. “I’m just going to get lunch with a friend-"_

_“I know you’ve been going out on dates, Dad,” Alfred interrupted, taking another loud sip. “Matthew knows too. You never take this long getting ready when you’re going out with a ‘friend’.”_

_“Uh,” Arthur stammered, feeling a light blush settling on his face, slightly embarrassed that his son booked him. He then sighed, “Okay, there’s not point in hiding it…I have been seeing someone for a few weeks now Alfred.”_

_“What’s his name?” Alfred said, and eyebrow being raised._

_“Percius. I met him at the history museum,” Arthur said, trying not to smile while saying that._

_“History museum?” Alfred scoffed, while rolling his eyes. “Doesn’t sound that great.”_

_“Don’t roll your eyes at me, young man,” Arthur cut in, not appreciating his attitude, before softening his voice. “Listen, Alfred. I know you find the idea of me seeing someone is weird, but I have to have a life outside of work, friends, and home. And trust me, if this works out well, you and Matthew would really like-“_

_“I don’t care, Dad,” Alfred mumbled, thought sounding a bit down, before walking away. “You do you.”_

_All Arthur could do was sigh. He expected this reaction from Alfred._

_“By the way, me and Matthew are going out to the park to play baseball!” Alfred called, from what Arthur assumed was the front door. “I’ll be back!”_

_“Message me when you get home!” Arthur called back, before he heard the front door close loudly. And with that, Arthur went back to fixing himself up._

After checking if he had everything he needed, Arthur realized what time it was, and had to run down to his car. And now, here Arthur was. He was late.

 “That, and my son,” Arthur continued, trying to have a bit of a conversation starter. After being a father for a long time, most of his conversation starter would somehow involve his sons.

It’s odd from how he would start when he was younger; he would always have to dig his mind for something that was interesting about himself and his interests. Usually, when Arthur mentioned his sons, the men that he was on a date on never call him back again.

Except for Percy. That’s why Arthur has been seeing him for this long. Percy didn’t look alarmed or frightened when he disclosed this fact about himself. Instead, he actually looked interested in this fact about Arthur.

 “Ah, kids,” Percy said, still smiling. His smile made Arthur melt inside.

Anything Percy did made him melt. He was an attractive man, with tanned skin, long eyes with blue coloured eyes, and wavy, brown hair that went up to his shoulders. He was slightly taller than Arthur, and had a lean, toned body.

 They met at the history museum a few weeks before they started to date, while Arthur had voluntarily supervised the third year world history student in the place of their actual history teacher. At that time, he had allowed the students to roam free, and he was in the Ancient Greece section of the museum, admiring the sculptures and vases they had set on display.

 Percy was there, seeming to be floating around, and struck up a conversation with Arthur, seeing as they were the only people in the section. He introduced himself as Percius Chung, and Arthur soon found out he was one of the curators for this section of the museum.

After a long conversation, which initially started by Arthur asking a few questions and Percy answering to them learning more about each others career, they exchanged phone numbers to keep in touch. It wasn’t after that encounter, Arthur quickly went on Facebook to find his profile, wanting to find the answer to the question eating away at his brain; was Percy into guys?

He found some things that would point to that direction, but it wasn’t until Percy messaged him one day did he get the answer to his question-along with a date.

“Which one was it?” Percy continued asked, as he started to look through the menu in front of him.

“The one that lives with me-Alfred,” Arthur replied, looking down the menu. It wasn’t that upscale, but it wasn’t cheap either. Arthur wasn’t sure who was paying for this date, or if they were splitting, and his pay check didn’t come in yet; he did himself a favour and looked at the money saving options. “He just asked me some things about where I was going and so on. He went to play baseball with Matthew; my other son.”

“Ah right. And Matthew lives with your ex-husband’s, right?” Percy replied, glancing up at Arthur. Arthur felt something in his heart lightly sting, but he ignored it. He was supposed to be completely over him.

Percy continued, “They sound like fun kids. I hope I get the chance to meet them.”

“They’re a handful, but they’re very sweet,” Arthur said, smiling. “Hopefully. Alfred is kind of uncomfortable with me dating now. I’m sure much later on, he’d be fine with it and you could meet him.”

“Arthur, are you assuming that we’ll be seeing each other again soon?” Percy said, a bit flirty.

“Maybe,” Arthur said, trying hard not to smile too much. “Are you ready to order food? Or perhaps, we should get drinks first?”

“Hmm, I actually did ask for some wine just before you arrived,” Percy said, then he slightly furrowed his eyebrows, concerned. “You don’t mind, do you? I completely forgot you drove here, and I wasn’t even sure if you like wine…”

“No, I don’t mind,” Arthur replied coolly, although, when he meant ‘some’ he meant one gulp. He was never fond of wine, but he didn’t mind it; the issue was that had an unusually low alcohol tolerance level. He knew how much of a hot mess he was when he was drunk, and the last thing he wanted to be right now was that.

A waiter came by their table and poured the wine into the wine glasses that they brought. They ordered food, and they soon they started to talk about various things; mostly about themselves, their work, interesting events going on, etc. 

Something about this was uncannily familiar to Arthur. Maybe it was the wine in his hand, and the fancy restaurant setting he was in. Or maybe, it was the way that Percy’s eyes smiled when he smiled, and how he had wavy hair that was styled in a familiar way that Arthur couldn’t help but for a split second, saw Francis sitting in front of him. Laughing. Gazing at him.

 _Please don’t do this to yourself,_ Arthur scolded to himself. _It’s been 2 years…You had little to zero contact. After what he did to you, you deserve better._

 


End file.
